


Of Promises and Loss

by ceruleyana



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleyana/pseuds/ceruleyana
Summary: Belladonna Baggins died of heartbreak, they whispered to each other during afternoon tea.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 1
Kudos: 78





	Of Promises and Loss

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't sleep last night so I wrote this instead. Hope you all like it!

Belladonna Baggins died of heartbreak, they whispered to each other during afternoon tea. It was such a tragedy, they said, but at least she and Bungo are together once again. 

Bilbo stared at his parents' tombstones, their bodies returned to the earth. He had clenched his fists that day, and made a promise. He will not suffer the same fate. 

And so, Bilbo Baggins lived on, fully caught up in the trappings of the Shire. He smiled and puffed and nodded, always so genial, always so polite. Never a hair out of place or or a shirt untucked. The respectable Master Baggins of Bag-End. 

He was considered quite a catch in the Shire. He endured many attempts at flirtations, many ladies hoping to be the Missus Baggins of Bag-End, but he would merely smile and gently reject their advances. None seem to catch his eye, to their disappointment. 

For the most part, everyone liked Master Baggins. He knew every hobbit he came across and greeted them with a kind, if distant, smile. He had fair dealings with his tenants who respected him greatly. 

He was an upstanding hobbit, taking after his father rather than his mother, who had frequently ran off to go on silly adventures. They wondered whether that was why she had died so suddenly - that her flights of fancy had made her health poor and unstable, but they would never say that out loud. It's not polite to speak ill of the dead, and poor Master Baggins has been through enough, losing both of his parents in such a short span of time. 

Bilbo Baggins lived an ordinary if somewhat uneventful life, filled with handkerchiefs and tea, until a wizard and a group of dwarves barged into his lovely home. 

His neighbors would say that the smial had been ransacked by dwarves, and poor Master Baggins was beside himself with worry for his poor furniture. They would say that he had been put under a spell by these dwarves, compelling him to follow them into the wild. Why else would their respectable Master Baggins run out of his house, a pack on his back and a piece of parchment in his hand, yelling about adventures. They had been sad to see him go, and their eyes had set on the empty smial, left behind. They had to wait, of course, because these things needed to be done right and proper. They are civilized hobbits, after all. 

His neighbors may have been right, though they don't know it. Their Master Baggins had been put under a spell - a siren's call in the form of a song about a home, lost to the greed of a monstrous dragon, far away from the Shire. He had heard the call, locked in his room, and felt a longing that he hadn't allowed himself to feel for a long time. The song enraptured his being, and it lulled him to sleep, sending him dreams of a home faraway, out of reach. 

He followed them, the day after, though he did not know exactly why. All he knew was that he had to go, and not doing so would haunt him for the rest of his life. So he ran. He ran as fast as he could, and the farther he got, the more the mask that he wore started to crack until he had reached the dwarves, the shattered remains of Master Baggins left trailing behind him. 

Now, all those years ago, Bilbo made a promise to himself. He had promised that his life will not end the way his mother's did. He thought that he had done a perfectly good job of that, keeping everyone at arm's length. What he found out is that it is difficult to keep people at arm's length when you practically sleep on top of one another. 

He realized it, dangling from a branch of a tree that was almost ready to tip over a cliff. He watched Thorin Oakenshield get tossed around like a rag doll, and found that he could not keep watching. With the same courage that pushed him out of the door of Bag-End, Bilbo rushed to Thorin's defense, uncaring of his own safety. 

When a moment of calm had passed when it was all over, Bilbo had to stop and wonder how it all went wrong. He had almost died for the sake of another, one whom for all he knew hated him, but apparently it was not so. Thorin had hugged him, and he had even gotten a smile. Bilbo hated that he felt that the smile was enough reward for his deeds, and yet he found that he could not stop falling for Thorin Oakenshield no more than he can stop gravity. It is harder to stop yourself from falling for someone when it had already happened without you knowing. 

Their friendship grew and blossomed. It seemed that to Thorin, Bilbo's word was as true and resolute as mithril. He followed where Bilbo led, fighting off giant spiders and escaping the kingdom of Mirkwood while trusting Bilbo all the while. 

Bilbo wondered if this was what his mother felt for his father, a blinding love that seemed ready to challenge the world for going against it. Yet he still didn't dare to hope for he knew that loving Thorin Oakenshield was a tragedy waiting to be written. He knew it would only end in tears, yet what could he do? He already loved and he had a suspicion that he was loved in return. Things were left unspoken. Bilbo didn't know what held Thorin's tongue, yet for him, it was the knowledge that this will not end well for either of them. He desperately wished for a way to undo all of this, to forget the bliss to avoid the grief. Yet there was no turning back from this sad tale, he knew. They could only move forward. 

Lake-town was a reprieve. Oddly enough, as dreary a place it was, it felt like anything was possible there, so close to the Lonely Mountain as they were. Bilbo saw the look in Thorin's eyes as he vouched for him, and he saw a future. It was a future with him in the mountain, Thorin by his side. And, for once, Bilbo dared himself to hope. 

Then came the sickness, the Arkenstone, and the Orcs. Then a battle to the death with a dreaded foe. 

Bilbo never liked the snow. It reminded him too much of the wolves raiding the Shire, hunger driving them. As he got up from where he collapsed, Bilbo shivered, hating the feeling of the cold on his skin. He walked towards the frozen river, and saw the ending of their tale - two bodies lying on the ice, one with a sword sticking out of its chest, the other slowly bleeding out to the side. 

As he ran, Bilbo felt his blood freeze from the dread, and he gritted his teeth. He sat by Thorin's side as he said his parting words. Bilbo wished that Thorin didn't resemble his mother at that moment - both of them having a flair for the dramatic. 

He remembered the teapot on the table by his mother's armchair, filled with leaves of belladonna. His hands shook as he stared at the pot before it fell to the ground. He knew he would remember the feel of Thorin's blood on his hands the same way that he would remember that teapot. 

As Thorin's breath halted and his eyes turned glassy, Bilbo's hands shook the same way they did holding that teapot, only what was in his hands were Thorin's, cold and unfeeling. 

He looked at their joined hands, snow falling down gently on them, slowly covering up the bloodstains, and a memory filled his mind - the sight of his father's lifeless corpse, and his mother tightly grasping his hands, an odd pantomime of him and Thorin. Like then, he felt tears fill his eyes, blurring his vision. 

Bilbo sobbed as the fighting went on around him. He had always wondered what drove his mother to do what she did all those years ago, yet now, surrounded by the blood of the dwarf that he loved, he understood. Nothing mattered any longer. For him, everything had stopped completely. The knowledge that their ending would be tragic did not prepare him for the pain, and he realized that nothing would have. Love is a cruel thing, taking you to great heights, only to leave you falling to your death. 

And Bilbo was alone once again. 

Bilbo went back to the Shire, only to find his home ransacked by hobbits who no longer recognized him and neither did he recognize them. He had retreated to his empty smial, calling Thorin a friend before closing the door. 

He stared up at the portraits of his parents, smiling as though Bilbo's heart wasn't as shattered as his reputation. He clutched his magic ring, hearing faint whispers as he did. 

Whispers seemed to flood the Shire at the return of Mad Baggins who ran off into the wild after dwarves, of all things, and came back with a sword and a chest filled with gold. He was cracked, you see. Had to be for no respectable hobbit would go on ridiculous adventures. He certainly took after his mother who ran off with the Grey Wizard during her youth. It's such a shame. 

For all his wealth, no one would dare try to court him. Can you imagine being the wife of Mad Baggins? Though Bag-End is a worthy get, they muttered to themselves. 

His neighbors would tell others that he would be usually found looking towards the East while smoking his pipe. They would even say that he looked lonely, even lost. The others would just shrug and say it's none of their business what goes on in his head. 

The faunts loved Mad Baggins with his stories and treats. Their favorite would be the story of the trolls. They giggled as Mad Baggins wrinkled his nose while describing what it was like to be covered in troll snot. They said that they see Mad Baggins smile a lot, though it somehow seemed wrong. They couldn't find a word for how lonely a smile can appear, since they were young and their words limited.

Bilbo visited his parents' tombstones and weaved them a tale - a tale filled with adventure and loss. He rather thought it had beaten his mother's tales when it came to enormity, and felt oddly proud. He told them about Thorin, with his piercing eyes and gruff manner. You would have liked him, he said and paused. Maybe once you get to know him, he added.

Bilbo stood up and bid his parents goodbye, but he paused and clenched his fists, the pain too much to bear. He clutched the acorn in his hand, and walked away.

Belladonna Baggins died of heartbreak, they whispered into their cups. Bilbo Baggins, on the other hand, will not. He made a promise that he will not have the ending that his mother had. He buried the acorn, hoping that it would grow into a strong oak - the promise of new life, formed from the ashes of the old. He had lived through impossible things, and he knew in his grieving heart that this was not the end of his story. Though he and Thorin will remain apart for a long while yet, he found that, despite the grief and pain, he could wait. One day, they will see each other again, but until then, he will keep on living. 


End file.
